


ultracrepidarian

by bikenesmith



Series: Quick Spaghetti [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Maps, Multi, Road Trips, Spain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikenesmith/pseuds/bikenesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.<br/>or, the one where jean gets everyone lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ultracrepidarian

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this back in october but i never posted it here, so here it is! this was originally a response to a word prompt thing on tumblr.  
> quick spaghetti adventure bla bla bla the set up for this is the kids backpacking through europe after graduation  
> ambiguous??? jeanmarco. it's both plainly obvious jm and kinda squint and turn your head sideways jm.  
> also: trans girl eren! yeah

_I, Jean Kirschtein, am not lost._

Jean repeats this mantra in his head over and over, even as he slows the van to a crawl on the nearly vacant highway as he pores over the ever-confusing map. The van's wheels bump over a pothole, and he grimaces as seemingly every bolt and piece in the automobile squeaks.

The van is a fucking tin can. No, not even that. Its a spare piece of scrap metal with wheels attached. But Jean guesses that's what he gets when he rents a van for under fifty euros.

Inside the piece of scrap metal with wheels attached with Jean are his friends. Usually, in normal circumstances, ones that didn't involve being _really fucking lost_ , he would be happy about this fact. Right now, the thought only makes his cheeks burn bright with embarrassment.

Beside him, Marco is holding open the other side of the map for him. He's wearing a polo - which is hilarious no matter what he says - and is sweating lightly in the summer heat. He has a _look_ on his face, one of those famous Marco looks, the one that says "Jean, you're doing something wrong but I'm too polite to say anything but Jean, _you're doing it wrong._ "

Jean tries very hard to ignore The Look. It's difficult to ignore, because hours earlier he had already loudly told his fellow backpackers, and practically everyone in the restaurant they'd been in, that he was a Master of Maps as in a Map Genius, A Map Scholar, Graduated Top Of His Class From Map University.

And now they're lost, _very_ lost, and Jean is a Map Dunce, apparently, when the map in question was in Spanish.

Marco keeps giving him The Look, and Jean's face turns redder, his fingers tracing the line of some random highway diagram as he mouths names of roads he doesn't actually know how to pronounce.

Sweat rolls down Jean's face, his back. He glances over his shoulder.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa are sitting in the front back seat, Armin fanning himself with his journal as Eren rests her head on his shoulder. Mikasa's asleep, her arms crossed and a tabloid placed over her face. Behind them sits Connie and Sasha, stuffing their face, and situated in what should be the storage space is Reiner and Bertholdt, both cramped and sweating like pigs. As Jean glances at all of them, it's clear one thought is on their mind:

"Are we lost?"

Jean sucks in a deep breath, mentally cursing back whatever god just cursed him by making Eren decide to say that right now.

"No," Jean says, trying to keep his voice calm. "Not at all."

Eren unbuckles her seatbelt and leans forward - Jean tries to cover the map, but only succeeds in ripping a corner - and says, "You're holding it upside down, you know."

Jean hears Connie and Sasha snigger in the back.

"I knew that," Jean bluffs. "Just - trying to figure out the best way to read the map."

"Yeah, okay," Eren scoffs, and sits back while Jean fights the urge to strangle her.

"Jean, let's pull over at the next gas station," Marco says softly, in that awful Sensible Marco Bodt voice. "There's one at the next exit. Maybe we can ask for directions."

Marco makes sense. He makes _so_ much sense.

"Okay," Jean calls. "We're pulling into the next exit. Gas station. Get our bearings."

"Did _Marco_ tell you to do that?" Connie calls. His mouth sounds full of something, probably more spicy Spanish snack foods that are hell to clean off van carpet, and god _dammit_ Connie, this van is _rented_.

"No," Marco answers, before Jean can say a word. "He came up with it. He's a _Map Scholar_ , remember?"

Connie looks skeptical, but doesn't say anything more, oping instead to open another bag of Lays.

Jean looks at Marco, purely metaphorical tears of gratitude building in his eyes. _Purely_ metaphorical. There aren't _actual_ tears pricking at his eyes, of _course_ not.

"I owe you one," he whispers. "Actually I owe you like five. _Quatro_.

Marco smiles sweetly, _so_ sweetly, and says, "You mean _Cinco_."

God bless Marco Bodt.

Jean starts actually driving again, not just cruising at a snail pace like before, and heads the van into the next exit. The van clatters and bangs along with the bumpiness and potholes in the road, and he hears something akin to the sound of plastic bags of snack foods spilling all over the carpet.

The van is _rented_ , dammit.

Jean pulls up to the gas station, which looks shady and dirty, but Jean's too desperate to have a chance to figure out where they are to give a fuck.

He parks in the petrol stained parking lot, and looks in the rearview.

"Me and Marco are going to take another look at the map. This is like your one chance to stretch your legs before we get to Toulouse."

Everyone starts to groan; it’s gotten far too hot inside the car to even consider getting up, and they’ve been driving all day - they’re all tired and don’t want to move.

This, however, is before Reiner grunts from the back, shifting and saying, “Look, guys, I dunno about you, but those _patatas bravas_ from earlier totally didn’t agree with my stomach and my ass is about to _explode._ ”

The van clears out quickly, Mikasa even dashing out with the tabloid still on her head.

Marco and Jean sit in the van in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of their friends’ footsteps fade into the distance.

Jean turns to Marco.

"Do you think we actually need to ask for directions?"

"Probably not," Marco says, peering at the map. "I mean, it's a very clear path. It’s just that we’re off the main highway. That’s why we haven’t seen anyone. We're....hold on - " Marco roots around in the glove compartment and eventually pulls out a grimy hot pink hi-lighter - " - _here_ \- " He circles a spot on the highway "and we need to just - " he fills in the rest of the highway straight onwards in hot pink " - yeah."

Jean stares. "Why did this look so difficult before?"

Marco unsticks his fingers from the hi-lighter, which appears to be coated in gum. "Because you're really bad at reading maps."

" _Spanish_ maps."

"All maps."

Jean starts to protest but Marco interrupts him, doing a (very bad) imitation of Jeans voice.

"Yeah, Marco! I totally know this shortcut to get to Rose Lake, I've got a map! _Four hours later,_ Oh my God, Marco, We're going to starve what if we never get home I'm so sorry -"

"We were thirteen!" Jean shouts.

"Actually, _I_ was fourteen."

"You're going to hold that one year difference above me forever, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Marco says honestly, and then smiles that stupid open smile that completely kills Jean, every time. Marco has straight, clean pearly whites that are almost blinding when he smiles, and they brighten the rest of his face, making his freckles stand out on his brown skin.

Jean looks distraught, and Marco misreads his expression, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter here though," Marco continues, tone reassuring. "In Europe, we can even all legally drink."

Jean groans, momentarily distracted from his thoughts. "That's terrible. What if someone else gets drunk? What if _Eren_ gets drunk? What if _Drunk Connie?_ "

Both of them stare out the windshield blankly, consumed with dread by the mere possibility of Drunk Connie.

“Let’s not be morbid,” Marco suggests.

“Yeah,” Jean agrees. “Yeah.”

“I actually really need to pee,” Marco blurts, and grins again, this time out of embarrassment.

“Well, go pee.”

Marco squirms in his seat. “No.”

“Oh my God,” Jean says. “We’re like, eighteen, I’d think we’re past th - ”

“Actually, _I’m_ nineteen.”

Marco immediately kicks open the van door and makes a run for it before Jean can get at him. Jean sits there in the shitty, overheated van for a moment, fuming and watching him go.

God _fucking_ bless Marco Bodt.


End file.
